The Golden Cellar
The gold circlet hummed against Elias’s palm, a low, vibrating thrum that traveled up his wrist and settled in the hollow of his throat. "You are sure of this, Elias?" Magistrate Aldous asked, his voice thin and dry as the parchment he had been shredding into the brazier. The firelight flickered, casting long, jagged shadows against the damp stone walls of the cellar, where the smell of mildew...
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